Outtie 5000

I am off to Maine to partake of lobster and general tomfoolery in the woods.

Have a great weekend!

What I realized while watching Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull last night

(don’t worry, no spoilers)

* It’s not necessary for all the plot points to make sense for a movie to be thoroughly entertaining. Suspend disbelief, folks.

* The 1950s were romping good times.

* Indy is responsible for later archeology-tinged action flicks such as The Mummy and National Treasure. Thanks loads, Spielberg.

* This film would never succeed without the nostalgia factor. Well, it would but it would seem far sillier than it already is.

* Harrison Ford is getting too old for this. Meanwhile, is Shia getting groomed for a career as an action star? That seems odd. But we did see the trailer for Eagle Eye, coming out later this year:



It might work better if Shia didn’t still look like a 14 year old.

I'm easily misled before 10 a.m.

Shame on you, CNN for making me exclaim “Holy crizzap!” as soon as I sat down at my computer this morning, before I’d even had any caffeine. This headline, “New York to recognize gay marriages,” implied to me that the state had legalized same-sex marriage, which is surprising because last I checked legislation to that effect proposed by Eliot Spitzer had stalled out in the State Senate.

Of course what this actually refers to is a directive from Gov. David Paterson to recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states and countries (Massachusetts, Canada, Spain, California—I hope). Which is also really good! But still, a more accurate headline wouldn’t have made me choke on my Egg McMuffin unnecessarily.

Yet, three cheers for our new governor! Now about that legislation…

Here’s a better-headlined and written story from the NYTimes.

Oh, and in other totally awesome news today, county clerks have been given the go-ahead to begin issuing marriage licenses to gay and lesbian couples on June 17. It’s important to start getting LBGT couples married because the more actual weddings of real people that take place, the harder it will be for California voters to bring themselves to support a proposed constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage this fall.

Frenchies are aliens, I think

Some uber-Manhattan guy on the subway just now (read: pink collared shirt, khakis, brown Italian loafers) was holding in his arms a French bulldog.

The little doggie was pretty cute, and I know they are immensely popular here right now, but does anyone else find it alarming how much their eyes bug out? I kept wondering if the dog was constantly surprised at goings-on in the world around him, or if this breed is just permanently google-eyed.

Always scary

Neat. I hadn’t seen anything about this story and then was walking past a building on Prince Street a few blocks away during lunch hour and it was swarming with police. There was even real “Crime Scene” tape!

SoHo on alert after alleged sexual assault

This is obviously a horrendous thing to happen to anyone. But I take from it these lessons: do not offer cigarettes to strangers at 3:45 in the morning, and do everything possible to make sure no one follows you into your building.

That latter is something I’ve always been skittish about, particularly when I’ve lived alone. I developed a habit of shutting the door to my apartment buildings behind me as quickly as possible so no ne’er-do-wells can sneak in. Of course, this once got me bitched out in Washington Heights for slamming the door on two thuggish-looking youths who then yelled that they lived in the building and that I was a racist ----- etc. But better safe than sorry, I feel.

Help needed

I am currently going cross-eyed trying to find a campground in Maine, New Hampshire, or Massachusetts that is rustic, scenic, allows dogs, and is available two days from now. It's difficult to overcome my West Coast bias against the tame-looking forests and topography they have over here. But for a New Yorker, getting out anywhere that’s not paved and vertical sounds nice.

If any of you have ever been camping in New England, I am desperate for suggestions!

Alternatively, perhaps you have a cheapo cabin in Bar Harbor, ME, we could rent? Maybe you could plan my whole weekend for me? Thanks!

Update 4:14 p.m.: Problem solved.

Downside.

The tradeoff for getting half days on Fridays: now I have to work until 5:45 every other day of the week. The horror!

Oh man, what a weekend!

The most glorious weekend ever has slid into a tropically rainy Tuesday. And while I try to dispel the bittersweet letdown of good times gone by, I’d love to share just a few of the photos from the past three days. (I’ll put lots more on Facebook, if you want to see other outtakes from the shenanigans.)

Friday found Brian and I sailing away on the Hudson and New York Harbor. Beautiful!


That green hill is Green-wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, and we live between that and the water. You can almost see our house!

Saturday we grilled on my friend Emily’s deck in Windsor Terrace then hotfooted it (well, cabbed it) to Harlem for fun and games at Alex and Gina’s.


The Brooklyn Bridge was lit up in changing LED lights for its 125th birthday.

Sunday was spent luxuriating in the sun and gardening—sorry, no photos, I was just too relaxed!

Monday we were lucky enough to be graced with the presences of many wonderful friends at a Memorial Day barbecue in our backyard. Thanks, everyone, for coming and bringing fabulous food and beverages!

Whew!

Now, back to the grind.

"No matter how well read you are, you’re not that well read."

Did you know "canonicity" was a word?

Volumes to Go Before You Die

Reasons to love summer Fridays

We now come to the most beautiful time of year—when those of us unfortunate enough to work in publishing get thrown a bone in the form of half days on Friday! In honor of these glorious afternoons Memorial to Labor Day, here are some thoughts on what makes them so great:

· You can carouse with your coworkers and friends in the sunshine beginning at 1 p.m., and be home and napping off your carousing by 4.

· With all the people of means escaping to overpriced Hamptons beach shacks, you have the subways to yourself. Three cheers for seats during rush hour!

· You can go to Trader Joe’s when the line doesn’t wrap thrice around the store like it does in the evenings!

· With locals gone, the tourists stand out all the more (cargo shorts and running shoes, really?) which makes it easier to heckle them—I mean, help them with directions.

· You can dine at sidewalk cafés and watch the parade of New York weirdness pass by.

· You can try on clothes at Forever 21 when it’s not crowded with teens giving you looks like you’re too old to be shopping there.

· I could go home and clean those dust bunnies that have been accruing all winter! Or, more likely, lie on the sunny roof and watch the Staten Island Ferry crisscross the Statue of Liberty. Ah, Brooklyn summer.

· All the Mister Softee you can eat.

What are your favorite summer Friday activities?

Photo of Astoria Beer Garden by J. Roleke

Last night at The Slipper Room

My boyfriend is a shining ray of teal-colored light when he gives literary readings. The brilliance of his writing creates a glow so bright you can’t even see him!

(Or maybe I take blurry but weirdly cool photos when I’m trying not to use a flash in darkened rooms.)

“America” voted…

The L.A. Times Show Tracker blog has more than you could ever possibly not want to know about last night’s “American Idol” finale. If you didn’t see it—what were you, rescuing children from a burning building?—you missed hilariously bizarre pairings of Idol finalists with aging pop stars like Bryan Adams, George Michael, Graham Nash, and a jowly but still powerful Donna Summer.

What the Times doesn’t know is that a majority of this blog’s readers (or voters, at least) would rather cuddle up with an oar than with the newly crowned Idol. You’re so pragmatic, you all! Of course, I envisioned myself fashioning an oar out of local materials, and passing the time until rescue with a living, breathing human being, and that being was David Cook. But that’s just me.

(And not because I luv him but because David Archuleta is incapable of saying anything more than a sheepish, “Golly!” I’m serious, check out his use of “for Pete’s sake” in this press conference.)

And now it’s over and I can stop bitching about the poor taste of 13-year-old girls.

Photo of David Archuleta, Bryan Adams, and David Cook by Mark Mainz/AP Images for Fox

Tsk, tsk

From the fashion section of the Times today: someone shrank this poor man’s suit!

Sizing Up the Cut of a Man

Maybe on top the food crisis there is a worldwide fabric shortage?

Ooh, me me me!

Raise your hand if you’re tired of it being in the 50s and raining when it’s almost Memorial Day.

I guess Fleet Week has begun

Sometimes I’m not so observant. There I was sitting on a bench along the Hudson today, entranced in the hugger-mugger of a Martin Amis novel, when I noticed that a Navy ship flush with sailors had crossed my horizon from right to left so quietly that I didn’t even see it.


Well, hello, boys! Welcome to New York!

Fleet Week 2008 sched

Sorry for the less-than stellar photo. I had to scramble for my camera.

Do not be alarmed

Women in my office are murmuring excitedly this morning about a recent spate of purse snatchings. (If four constitutes a ‘spate.’) Lower Manhattan Subway Purse Snatcher Strikes Again

Someone sent out the usual, “Hey, girls, be careful out there…” e-mail and now everyone’s talking about how freaked out they are.

Ladies, we live in New York City. News flash: there is crime here. Hold on to your damn purse and don’t be surprised if someone tries to steal from you, but calm the hell down because that’s four women robbed of the 3 million who ride the subways every day. You chose not to live in Mayberry, now deal with it.

(Of course, don’t expect me to be so flippant if I’m the one attacked on the D train platform. Note to thieves: I only carry enough cash to buy Baked Lays at the vending machine each day. You can have my journal if you enjoy angsty ramblings, and I can always buy more tampons.)

Hottie petotties—I mean, fine actors

My brain is not functioning this morning. So instead of interesting commentary, let’s just look at pretty pictures.

I’m currently halfway through watching the fourth season of “The Wire”—I know, you’re tired of hearing about this show, shut up. And it obviously has much going for it. But beyond the stellar writing, directing, acting, etc., let’s take a moment to talk about the real reason we’re all so enthralled: The hottest collection of men any show has had in a long time.

Ellis Carver

Cedric Daniels

Omar Little

Stringer Bell

Leander Sydnor

And hey look, even Bubbles looks good when he cleans up!


Please let me know if I’ve missed any of your favorites. (If you say Ziggy Sobotka, you’re banned from my blog.) Perhaps a poll to follow?

Where’s Officer Krupke when you need him?

I like to think of alternate realities for myself, places I might be right now if I’d made different choices in my life. Here’s one: say I’d gone back home after college. Then maybe I could have gotten involved in the local media scene and so have prevented such a ridiculous lede and headline in a story:

Real Life "Sharks" And "Jets" Square Off In Tuolumne County

Holy Christ, you’ve got to be kidding me. There is an actual news item buried under this insane reference to “West Side Story.” And a brawl between groups of redneck kids up in the hills bears no resemblance to racial strife in a multilayered immigrant context, such as in the play. Honestly.

Here’s a more responsible take on this story, in case you’re curious:

Many hurt in major fight, one hospitalized

It’s nice to see someone following journalistic ethics, even in that Podunk corner of the world.

Brat Pack ruminations

I finished reading Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis last night, and I’m having really hard time with it. I’m haunted by one burning question, the intricacies of which kept me up last night. Maybe you can help.

Would you rather have been a coked-out, self-absorbed, reckless rich kid in 1980s Los Angeles or in New York, as in Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City? Such a hard choice…

Dear Channel 7 weatherman:

1:34 p.m., walking to Dunkin’ Donuts: What the hell?! You showed me a pretty green map of the whole state this morning with no precipitation in sight. You said it would be “breezy.” So why am I now slogging through cold rainy gusts in nylons and leather ballet flats with no umbrella? I loathe you.

1:52 p.m., walking back to work: This sunny blue sky with wisps of cloud does not exonerate you, mister. You have played with me for the last time. I may have to cheat on you with the Channel 5 weathergal. Maybe if the bizarro spring showers hold off for my walk home tonight, I’ll forgive you. And you better do some groveling.

Damn, Portland

75,000 people came out to see Obama yesterday! (Oregonian story here.) I’ve been at crowded festivals at that waterfront, but man, this must have been a scene.



Wish I could have been there. What a beautiful day and inspiring event in one of my favorite cities in the world. Sigh.


Check out this interesting NY Times story about Oregon’s shifting demographics. Looks like tomorrow might be a good day.

Photos from the Oregonian

This is not good.

23 injured when carnival ride collapses.

At Frog Jump tonight.

So, this happened today

Some bands age gracefully like fine wines. NKOTB is apparently more of a Two-Buck-Chuck--meant to be enjoyed at the time and not 15 years hence.



Yowza. I'm going to blame a bad soundsystem that picked up only Danny's voice, and he was always the one no one liked anyway. Don't get me wrong. I love these guys. As many of you know, they were the first band I saw in concert, Christmas of 1989. I even respect some of them for the careers they've had afterward.

But, Jesus, these old songs are terrible! And do they really have to keep up the synched dance moves? Let them retain some dignity, at least.

The cute parade

It is once again Cute Animal Friday, and I bring you two things today to prove that I’m not heartless and to make up for the confusion over the sarcasm dripping from my last post.

One: Brooklyn being unsure what to do about being trapped in Brian’s knees.


And two: A sneezing panda video that had me and a coworker chortling hysterically yesterday. Perhaps it’s just our job that makes us punchy, though.



Happy (stupidly rainy and cold) Friday!

Poll post-mortem

Nuala O’Faolain is very sad nobody voted for her even though she was a groundbreaking journalist, memoirist, and novelist who persevered through a tough life and death while Bob Rauschenberg just pasted a bunch of junk together and called it art.

Cheers!

P.S. Eddy Arnold is also sad. The “Tennessee Plowboy” had 145 songs on the charts between 1945 and 1983 with hits such as “I’ll Hold You in My Heart (Till I Can Hold You in My Arms),” “Don’t Rob Another Man’s Castle,” and, of course, the rollicking “Cattle Call.”